


I see you watching me watching you

by skullage



Category: Block B
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 18:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8544037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullage/pseuds/skullage
Summary: Minhyuk comes back to town.





	

He’s buying a couch when he gets the call. It’s the most mundane thing. He’s walking around a store with his assistant -- something else he doesn’t really need -- trying to decide whether leather or upholstery fabric would be a better fit for the house that he barely uses. It has to be a fold out one this time; Taeil spends too many nights passed out in Kyung’s bed, and they’re really getting too old for sleepovers.

Suyoung takes the lead on the couch hunting, drawing attention from the store clerks with her silver mohawk and jeans with more rips than material. The mohawk is half the reason Kyung hired her. Yukwon pressured him into getting an assistant, because someone needed to sort Kyung’s life out. She walked into his office, half an hour early for their appointment, with a resume as long as his arm, with shoes that were five inches tall, managing to only reach Kyung’s shoulder, and he hired her on the spot. She’s tiny but efficient, and he has no doubt she can swing a deal on the fly better than he could, even if he had bothered to prepare. Really, Suyoung always seems to know what Kyung needs better than he does.

He flops down on one of the display couches, slightly dazed after last night’s long hours and a little too tempted to doze off for a second when his phone rings. It’s an unknown number, and usually Kyung would reject the call, but he’s bored, maybe, or he’s just too exhausted, so he accepts. The voice that greets him brings him crashing back to lucidity at the same time that it sends him free falling into the past, as though the last 3 years had never happened, as if Jiho had never announced their disbandment to a crowd of twenty thousand so very loyal fans.

“Kyung,” and, oh. He remembers that voice. “It’s Minhyuk.”

“Minhyuk,” Kyung repeats slowly, “Min-hyuk. Sorry, don’t know anyone by that name. Min-ho? Min-hyun? Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Kyung,” he says, and he sounds like he’s even smiling when he says it.

“Oh, Minhyuk? You mean the guy that disappeared all those years ago? I thought he was dead. I had just come to terms with never seeing dear old Minhyuk again. I sent flowers to his omma last week.”

“Cut the shit,” Minhyuk says, a laugh in his voice. “Let’s catch up.”

“You’re in town?” A spike of nervousness hits him.

“For now.”

“Well, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m a bigshot producer now. My schedule is packed, lots of things to see, people to do. You know how it is.” He feels a tiny thrill of victory after managing to keep his voice steady.

“I’m coming over to your house this afternoon. Jiho gave me the address.” Fucking Jiho. Kyung will never forgive him. “Four o’clock, okay?” It sounds more like a rhetorical question than anything else, and Kyung -- he’s so tired, so struck by this random occurrence, that he nods even though Minhyuk can’t see him.

“Sure. Four o’clock,” he says, and hangs up.

He all but flees the furniture store after dismissing Suyoung for the rest of the day. He only feels slightly guilty about making her take a cab home while he drives back to his own house, and when he’s there he takes one look around and sighs at the mess of soju bottles and dishes piled in the sink. He hasn’t had had anyone over in so long that the need to clean up fell by the wayside, and it’s only now that he actually has to do it that he realises what a task it is.

It takes him four hours, and by the time his hands are raw from scrubbing the floors, it’s still only two o’clock. He considers jerking off, or working a bit more on his latest song for KQ’s newest girl group, but lies down on the couch for a minute instead. He loves this couch. It’s the first he bought when he finally moved out of the dorm, the one that he and Minhyuk broke in the day that Kyung moved into his last place, and the thought of trading the ratty, wine-stained frankenstein of colours and fabric in for something that costs too much money and that he isn’t even attached to makes him sad. Taeil will probably hate it, too, but Kyung feels less empathy for him than he does pity for his old couch.

When he wakes up, it’s with a jolt of nerves that leaves him breathless until he remembers what exactly he has to be nervous about. His phone tells him it’s four forty-five and he has a message from Minhyuk saying that he’s going to be late. It gives him time to shower and change and feel a bit more alive, before he waits impatiently in the living room for the next twenty minutes until there comes a knock on his door. He has to even out his breathing and close his eyes for a second before he pushes himself up to answer it.

It’s not some grand, romantic reunion. It’s just two guys looking at each other, over a threshold that spans half a lifetime and many, many nights spent exploring each other’s bodies. Minhyuk looks both the same and different, like the world has changed him in certain ways -- the look in his eye, the way he holds himself, the way he’s dressed -- but the rest of him, his energy, his Minhyuk-ness, is the same. He looks different than the pictures he sent Kyung over the years, but it’s him.

They stare at each other for a minute, Kyung too shocked to say anything and Minhyuk probably relishing the uncharacteristic silence, before they both move at the same time, their arms snaking around each other’s shoulders. Just like that, the last three years have disappeared.

“You bastard,” Kyung says, trying not to laugh through his anger.

“It’s good to see you,” Minhyuk says, and when they finally pull back he’s smiling so widely that it makes Kyung’s heart beat faster. It makes him look that much more handsome, something Kyung hasn’t been able to appreciate in the flesh for quite some time. “Shall we go in? I want to see your new place.”

“Yeah,” Kyung says, but he doesn’t move for another few seconds, still drinking Minhyuk in. “It’s not new to me anymore, I’ve been living here for over a year. Long enough for it to know me well. You look great, by the way. Travelling must have agreed with you.”

Minhyuk steps inside after him, looking around at the monochrome fixtures and bare walls that Kyung still hasn’t bothered to decorate, and Kyung suddenly feels self conscious.

“It’s small, I know. I can afford more than two bedrooms but I don’t see the point when I just need the one. I turned the other into a studio, which is where I spend most of my waking hours when I’m not at KQ.”

“It could stand to have a bit more personality,” Minhyuk admits. “Are you sure you live here?”

“Well, live is a strong word. Mostly I exist here.”

Minhyuk cuffs him on the back of the neck affectionately. “You exist here by yourself?”

“Is that your round-about way of asking if I have a partner?”

Minhyuk shrugs. “Sure. Do you have a partner?”

“No,” Kyung says, laughing. “It’s still kind of hard to date, even though we’re not idols anymore.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, just looking at Kyung with a soft expression on his face for long enough that Kyung almost recoils under the scrutiny.

“What about you? Anyone special?”

Minhyuk goes back to exploring the space, running his hands along the counters, gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Kyung didn’t think much when he bought the place; it was pricey for two bedrooms, but he could afford it. It’s in a nice neighbourhood, and it’s close to KQ. Now, though, he realises how pretentious it is to have a house this nice when he barely spends any time here. It’s not anything like the kind of house he wanted when he was younger, the kind he imagined raising a family in.

“A few someones. Nothing that lasted. Never really could get the hang of it, you know? Being in a relationship. But you would know.”

Kyung nods. It’s hard for any idols to be in a relationship. He knows that. It was impossible for them, two boys from the same band. They made do, though.

“Are you hungry?” Minhyuk asks. “We should get something to eat. Let’s go out. It’s been too long since I’ve had proper Korean food.”

“Sure,” Kyung says. He grabs his jacket from the peg he put it on several hours ago and heads with Minhyuk out the door.

 

//

 

While they take the subway to Dongdaemun market, Minhyuk fills Kyung in on what he was up to, which was a lot. Kyung just listens to him, listens to the lilt of his voice, watches his expressions, feels the energy he exudes. It fills him up.

They immediately head to Meokja-golmok in search of food, trying to blend in with the crowd as much as possible. It works, to an extent. They only get stopped twice by fans for selcas, and even now Kyung still feels a sort of thrill that their fans are that loyal, that they still haven’t forgotten Block B.

Their first stop is Minhyuk’s favourite stall, the one that sells tteokbokki topped with shredded cabbage and perilla leaves. It’s still there, even though many others have closed, and more have popped up in their place. It’s like a snapshot of an earlier time, and Kyung appreciates the nostalgia he feels every time he goes there. Kyung haggles with the stall owner over the price of tofu sticks while Minhyuk stands close to him, a hand on Kyung’s lower back.

They wander around for awhile until they decide on a restaurant, passing words and time between them, stopping occasionally when something catches Minhyuk’s eye. Their hands brush several times and Minhyuk gives him these looks, these little half-smiles like they share a secret nobody else knows. Kyung hasn’t been on the receiving end of Minhyuk’s flirting in so long that he’d almost forgotten what it looks like.

After the restaurant, and drinks, and more casual hand-touching, and knees brushing under the table, they take a walk along Cheonggyecheon. Kyung’s tempted, as he has been so many times before, to take Minhyuk’s hand, and, as always, he decides against it. He’s never known how Minhyuk would react, but he suspects not well. Before, it was always too risky without hiding behind the camera lens or the excuse that they were idols, band mates, and that would eliminate the possibility of anything romantic happening between them.. Now there’s a new set of rules which Kyung has yet to test, and, with Minhyuk having just come back, he’s reluctant to.

The night is beautiful in ways Kyung can’t describe. He itches for a soundboard to encapsulate it, but instead settles for humming the tune, smiling back at Minhyuk as he leads Kyung along the stream. Maybe it’s the memory of the last time they saw each other resurfacing, but something about Minhyuk, his stance, the way he holds himself, his profile thrown into contrast by the lights, makes Kyung’s throat dry.

“I need a drink,” Minhyuk announces, voicing what Kyung had just been thinking. Minhyuk leads the way back into the city, and Kyung follows.

 

//

 

One drink soon turns into a few; the fourth bar they end up at is a shitty little tourist trap where the drinks are cheap and the music is at an acceptable volume for talking.

“You enjoyed it a little too much,” Kyung says. Minhyuk doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed; he just shrugs.

“Yeah, I liked it. I like trying new things.”

“Bullshit.” Kyung’s a little tipsy now, sloshing soju out of his glass as he waves it in Minhyuk’s face. “You loved it, putting on a skirt, stuffing your bra. Shaking your ass for the camera.”

They haven’t done this in years, talked shit in person, and it makes Kyung sad to think about all of the things that time has taken away from them. Minhyuk bites his lip, and it goes straight to Kyung’s dick. “I can’t believe you never did it.”

“What? Dressed up as a woman?”

“You might like it if you tried it. It comes with a certain freedom.”

Kyung pours himself another shot. “I’ll pass, thanks.” He glances up to find Minhyuk staring at him with a curious expression, and being under that microscope is so foreign and yet so familiar that it makes Kyung’s head spin.

They were always infuriating, those looks Minhyuk gave him when he thought Kyung wouldn’t notice. Kyung used to wonder why Minhyuk wouldn’t just use his words, until he realised that Minhyuk hadn’t had to bullshit his way out of dangerous situations for as long as he could remember. Minhyuk isn’t the same as Kyung; he’s probably not even the same person now.  
Minhyuk downs what’s left in his glass and slides it across the table for Kyung to pour. Kyung has to pay attention to what he’s doing, pushed over the edge by his last shot.

It seems to take him an age to pour, his focus single-minded. He sets the bottle down at the same time he feels pressure on his knee, Minhyuk’s hand curling around it, squeezing, his body a lot closer than Kyung remembered.

A moment passes in which the information filters through Kyung’s brain, and the memory of the last time Minhyuk touched him like this surfaces. It’s an old memory, worn in from all the times that Kyung’s replayed it, over the last few years -- in the drunken hours of the morning, at 3pm with only his soundboard to console him, or in bed with someone else who couldn’t match what he was picturing in his head. He’s picked it apart, gone through every detail as if it would make history repeat itself, somehow. As if just by willing it, he could make Minhyuk appear.

Well, maybe it worked. Here Minhyuk is, all 178 centimetres of him, his hand sliding up Kyung’s thigh like he’s been thinking about it, too.

“What are you doing,” Kyung says, and it’s not quite a question. Minhyuk turns his body towards him, the side of his mouth lifting in a smirk wide enough that his cheek dimples.

God, that dimple. Kyung wants to bathe in it.

“You know,” Minhyuk says, his hand stilling, a solid weight, “I met a lot of people over the last three years. Slept with some of them, too.”

“If you’re going to run me through a list of your sexual history, I’ll need another drink.”

Minhyuk crowds further into him. Their booth is dimly lit but Kyung still feels the same phantom eyes of cameras and fans that he’s had on him since he was nineteen. Maybe Minhyuk’s forgotten what it’s like to be a celebrity after three years of globetrotting and living like a nomad, but Kyung still has his face on twitter, still wins the occasional award for a new single. Even though he hasn’t released an album since just After -- and that’s how he thinks of it, as Before and After they disbanded, Before and After Jiho moved to LA and Taeil cut a six-figure deal with a different company and Jihoon made it big in Malaysia and Minhyuk left. He just -- left.

Or maybe Minhyuk doesn’t care anymore. If he ever really cared.

Kyung hears his heartbeat in his ears as Minhyuk moves closer still, breath ghosting across Kyung’s cheek, sweet from the liquor. It’s embarrassing how easily Kyung’s body responds to him after all these years.

“But what you notice is,” Minhyuk continues, “no matter where you go, you meet the same types of people. Different skin color, different hair types, but all fundamentally the same.” His hand splays over the outline of Kyung’s cock, now half-hard from anticipating the movement. “There wasn’t anyone like you, though. You’re one of a kind.”

Kyung closes his eyes against the rush of arousal that hits him like a gut punch. “I bet you met a hundred Yukwons.”

“Let’s go back to your place.” He says it as if it’s an inevitability, not a suggestion. Kyung can’t think through the alcohol and desire fogging his brain. It’s been months since anyone’s touched him like this, months since he’s mustered up the energy to go looking for sex.

He never really did get over being hung up on Minhyuk.

“I did think about you, Kyungie. And I missed you.” Minhyuk’s voice is soft enough that Kyung has to strain his ears to hear, biting his lip as he concentrates. “I missed the way we used to fuck, when you’d get mad and try to push me around. Or how it was sweet, most of the time, with you on top, riding me. I never told you this, but my favourite part was when you’d fuck me, on the floor or up against a wall, whatever surface was closest because we were too caught up to get to a bed.”

Kyung swallows around a groan that threatens to escape. Minhyuk doesn’t move his hand, but he doesn’t take it away either, just resting it on the obvious bulge in Kyung’s pants, a tease. He always did know how to drive Kyung crazy.

This is a bad idea. It hasn’t happened in, how long exactly? Over three years?

“Three years, two months,” Minhyuk says, because of course Kyung had to say that out loud, and of course the bastard has been keeping count. He bets Minhyuk did it to piss Kyung off. “It was my going away present, remember?”

“Fine, three years, two months. Do you really want to break that streak?” Kyung asks, but he’s not pushing Minhyuk away, he’s not telling him to stop. “And I didn’t know it was your going away present, _remember_?”

“There was a time I went without sex for a year and a half. I thought it would help, would stop making me miss this so badly. And then I was having it almost every day. But it didn’t matter whether I did or didn’t. I still thought about you. Us. Fuck, Kyung,” he continues, his voice pained. “You’re the best lay I’ve ever had.”

Kyung can’t pretend that that doesn’t stroke his ego, and it’s almost as good as the way Minhyuk starts to stroke his cock through his pants. “Ok,” he says, because three years apart has only made him weaker for Minhyuk, “let’s go back to my place.”

 

//

 

By the time they stumble back to Kyung’s house, he’s sobered up a little. Not enough to stop himself from backing Minhyuk up against the front door, or from taking his own tongue out of Minhyuk’s mouth, but enough to know how much of a bad idea it is.

“Should we go inside?” Minhyuk asks, in between sucking on Kyung’s tongue and biting at his lips.

Kyung hums in acquiescence, continuing to kiss Minhyuk and be kissed by Minhyuk until his brain catches up. Right. Inside. Bed. He breaks off to unlock the front door but Minhyuk is right behind him, arms circling Kyung’s waist, kissing and nipping at the back of his neck, and, god, it’s still as heated as it ever was, just as fueled by this insatiable need to get at each other, skin on skin and breath and breath and heat. He finally gets the door open and they stumble through, kicking over the umbrella stand, fumbling for the light switch because Kyung hasn’t seen Minhyuk in years, dammit, and he’s going to get his fill.

He smooths his hands over the lapels of Minhyuk’s blazer, which seems more like something the stylists would dress him in than something he would have chosen himself, and backs him up against the door. Minhyuk lets him, like he’s always done. Kyung’s never questioned it, Minhyuk’s blind obedience. Kyung knew about it even before they started fucking. It was more of a prelude, the way Minhyuk would do whatever inconvenient thing Kyung asked -- grab him something he was too lazy to get himself, order food for him, rub his feet after hours of practising moves that Kyung had an easier time perfecting than he let on.

Kyung had gotten off on it, this power, if it even was that, if it was ever anything more than Minhyuk letting Kyung get away with things, and Kyung’s still not sure which one it was. He never asked Minhyuk to come home, not because Kyung didn’t want him to, but in case Minhyuk didn’t and shattered the pretenses he’d built between them.

Minhyuk bites his lip but keeps his hands to himself, pressed against the glass pane windows of the door in surrender, his body offered up. Kyung fits his hands over his hips, testing him to see if he’ll move, wondering how much has changed since they were last this intimate, how much he can get away with.

Minhyuk’s anticipatory gasp when Kyung steps closer is audible, like a whip crack in the night. He bites his lip again. It’s something of a trademark for him, a carefully orchestrated character flaw designed to make Kyung lose his mind. The way Minhyuk looks at him, with eyes that are three years and many continents wiser, makes Kyung feel significant and small at the same time.

He means to say something sexy. Something to revv Minhyuk up, to show him what he’s been missing. All that comes out is, “Have you been tested?”

“Yeah,” Minhyuk says, not at all affronted like Kyung would be if someone had asked him that. “I got tested every month while I was away, and I wasn’t stupid. But we can use protection.”

They never have before, not with each other, even when they were also seeing other people. Kyung was using protection with them, so he reasoned he didn’t have to use it with Minhyuk. He never bothered to check if Minhyuk was doing the same.

“Yeah,” Kyung says, not meeting his eyes. He suddenly feels very foolish, having ruined the mood. Maybe he’s not the same person he was three years ago either; he might not be the person Minhyuk wanted with such a calm intensity it would leave Kyung breathless just thinking about it, the way God is calm, the way oceans are calm before a storm. Minhyuk senses his apprehensiveness and pulls him in, coursing fingers through his hair.

“We don’t have to have sex.” He says it so matter of factly, like it wasn’t his hand on Kyung’s dick back at the bar, like he wasn’t practically crawling into Kyung’s lap. Kyung scoffs, because Minhyuk is still hard.

“Are you telling me you came all this way from Peru, called me up, bought me drinks for hours, bar-hopped halfway across Seoul, and now have come back to my apartment with that,” he gestures towards Minhyuk’s crotch, “only to _not_ get laid?”

Minhyuk shrugs. “I’m not going to say no.” Kyung starts to pull away again before Minhyuk grabs his waist, and even that simple action, claiming him, stopping him from backing off, has Kyung’s heart rate picking back up. The degree of casual sincerity in Minhyuk’s voice is staggering when he says, “I want you. I always do. That hasn’t changed.”

It’s not that Kyung doesn’t believe him. It’s just that they were together -- as together as two people in their position could be -- for years, they shared more with each other than Kyung even knew he had in him to share. Then Block B broke up, and Kyung couldn’t turn to Minhyuk because Minhyuk was gone, he just _left_. All those years of supporting each other amounted to nothing. Kyung believes what Minhyuk says, because Minhyuk has never lied to him, but the intensity with which he says it is contradicted by his previous actions.

“But if you don’t want to, I don’t know. We could just keep drinking. You still have that bottle of Odyssey?”

Kyung groans. “You know I only bought that as a joke, right? It was mostly to piss off Jaehyo.”

“‘Who pays that much for _scotch_ ’,” Minhyuk imitates, and the way he scrunches up his face in mock indignation sets Kyung off, who muffles his laugh in Minhyuk’s shoulder. “Poor bastard never could appreciate the finer things in life.”

“I haven’t touched it,” Kyung says, “I haven’t even thought about it since the last time we drank it.” That’s a lie, but Minhyuk doesn’t need to know Kyung used to think about it a lot. That he bought it to impress Minhyuk. That it reminded Kyung too much of him in the intervening years between then and now, so he put it in the back of his cupboard and tricked Taeil into packing and unpacking his alcohol stash for him when he moved so he didn’t have to look at it.

“We don’t have to have sex,” Minhyuk repeats. “We can just...cuddle?”

They’ve never “just” cuddled in the whole time they’ve been cuddling. It’s always progressed to more, the last time with Kyung on his stomach and Minhyuk thrusting into him, whispering filth into his ear, and kissing his skin so tenderly all at once.

“That is,” he continues, “if you can be sweet about it.” He says it as a joke but Kyung takes it as a challenge.

“I can be sweet. Sometimes.”

“I know you can,” Minhyuk says, and it’s so painfully earnest. “Kyung, you’re sweet all the time. Not everything in my life has been as easy as it is with you.” He places a hand against Kyung’s cheek, a move so eerily reminiscent of the Minhyuk he knew three years ago that Kyung’s breath catches in his throat.

He can’t think of anything to say in response, so he takes Minhyuk by the hand and pulls him along towards the bedroom. “Strip,” he says, as soon as they cross the threshold. Minhyuk complies with a hungry expression, shedding clothes like he’s just been waiting for Kyung to tell him to.

“Slow down,” Kyung says, and Minhyuk does, making a show of it, tossing his vest across the room, pushing his chest out, moving his hips in the same way Kyung always said was too lewd for camera, and thought only he should get to witness.

He turns around to show off his ass, slipping his pants down inch by inch and, god, the sight of it, peach-round and firm. Kyung’s dreamed of that ass. When he shucks his pants and he’s left in just his socks he bends over to take them off, and, yeah, Kyung’s ready to go.

He hasn’t bothered undressing, hasn’t even touched himself, too caught up in Minhyuk’s strip tease. Kyung comes up behind him, sliding a hand into his hair to pull him in, pushing his crotch into Minhyuk’s ass.

“Get on the bed. Hands and knees.”

Minhyuk just does what he’s told, stroking a finger across Kyung’s cheek as he goes. He positions himself on the bed, face down, ass in the air, and Kyung doesn’t waste any time. He takes condoms and lube from the bedside table and slicks his fingers up, teasing across Minhyuk’s hole before he pushes in. The gasp he receives in response spurs him on, Minhyuk pushing back onto his finger, so he adds another, getting Minhyuk used to it. He’s just as tight as Kyung remembers, and, fuck it, he doesn’t want to be sweet tonight. He wants to take.

“Tell me,” Minhyuk says, turning his head to catch Kyung’s eye, “tell me if I look good like this.”

“If I told you what I really thought, it would go to your head.” Kyung extracts his fingers slowly as he splits his pants open with one hand, rolling on a condom and slicking up his cock as efficiently as he can.

“Talk to me,” Minhyuk says, his voice low, breathy.

“I want to tie you up and keep you here,” Kyung says, the first thing that comes to mind. “Face down on my bed, cheeks spread, ready and willing for me to fuck you. I’ll never let you leave.”

 _Again_ , he doesn’t add. His heart starts to beat in his throat as he lines himself up, and he takes a second to mentally prepare himself. He feels like a teenager all over again. He feels like he did the first time they had sex, when Minhyuk was still this cool older man and Kyung felt like a boy in his dad’s clothing, despite only a one and a half year age difference. His hands were shaking then, too.

“Kyung?” Minhyuk asks, after maybe thirty seconds of waiting.

“I’m not going to last long,” Kyung admits, “It’s -- been a while.”

“Please don’t leave me here like this,” Minhyuk says, the plea falling from his lips into the air like weight, and oh. That sounds something like what Kyung would have said to him, had he known Minhyuk was leaving. It tips him over the edge and he pushes in, slowly, relishing Minhyuk’s tight heat, almost losing himself in how good it feels. They both make the same noise, a shocked-out _unh_ kind of whine that hangs in the air until Kyung bottoms out.

Minhyuk feels better than Kyung remembers. Maybe it’s because they were away from each other for so long; maybe it’s because Kyung hasn’t had sex in months. Kyung doesn’t know which one he wants to believe. Whatever the reason, it’s overwhelming and he has to take a minute to adjust. That’s all he needs: some time to adjust. Minhyuk walked back into his life six hours ago and they’re already here like the last three years didn’t even happen.

Minhyuk reaches a hand back to touch Kyung’s thigh and the action grounds him, brings him back to the present. He starts to thrust, rolling his hips in a way that immediately has Minhyuk groaning as he pushes back to meet him. They’d developed a practiced rhythm over the years, one that didn’t take long to perfect, once they realised how much they liked it. Kyung still remembers what Minhyuk likes, so he bends him over and pushes in as far as he can, digs his fingers into the flesh of Minhyuk’s ass to pull his cheeks apart, snaps his hips at just the right tempo to have Minhyuk groaning into the bed sheets.

Minhyuk’s already talking, saying things like _you fuck me so good_ and _your cock, fuck, you know how to give it to me, the way I want_ , and Kyung can’t help the part of him that wonders if he’s like this with other people, if he talks such trash with whoever he found to fuck him in every country on earth, or if it’s really true, that Kyung’s the best he’s ever had. He feels the tension start to build. He’s sweating through his clothes, trying to hold onto this surge of bitterness just to stave off coming so soon.

Minhyuk keeps talking, keeps pushing back onto Kyung’s dick, moaning like he can’t get enough, and Kyung can’t help but lean further over. He kisses down the line of Minhyuk’s spine, nips at whatever flesh he can reach, sucks red marks into his skin. He gets as deep as he can, one last thrust, before he’s coming, eyes closed and breath expunged from his lungs.

As soon as he’s done he pulls out and flops down onto his back next to Minhyuk, who grins like he’s just come himself.

“Good?”

Kyung nods, dazed. “Fuck. That was even better than the last time. Which was probably our best time, until now.”

“I wanted to make it good for you, so you’d remember me at our best. If you ever thought about me at all.” Minhyuk shifts until he’s lying next to Kyung, their shoulders and arms touching, their breathing in sync.

“Don’t insult me, Minhyuk,” Kyung says, too worn out to convey his anger. “After all those years, all that time together? I never stopped thinking about you, not for one day. You leaving,” he’s mostly talking to the ceiling, unable to stop himself, “you don’t know what it did to me. It crippled me. There. Is that what you want to hear?”

Minhyuk slides his hand into Kyung’s. “No. I wanted you to get on with your life, without me. You deserved better than hiding. You should have met someone and started a life with them. That’s what I wanted.”

“Well, tough shit.” Kyung’s anger starts to shine through as his breathing evens out and his heart rate returns to normal. “You ruined me for anyone else. They just don’t compare. I couldn’t start anything real with anyone because of you, because you damaged me in some permanent way, and everyone else could tell. I should hate you for it.”

“If you want me to go,” Minhyuk starts, and Kyung interrupts him.

“Fuck you. If you want to leave again don’t let me stop you, if this is too real for you.”

Minhyuk squeezes tighter, turning on his side to stroke his other hand down Kyung’s cheek, and, damnit, Kyung’s too weak for this. He closes his eyes against the sensation, and keeps them closed long after Minhyuk’s taken his hand away, afraid that when he opens his eyes Minhyuk will be gone.

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He doesn’t want to start thinking that this, that they, will be permanent.

“Want me to suck you off?”

Minhyuk hums in response before rolling in between Kyung’s legs, pulling at Kyung’s clothes to get him naked. “I want to do you, if that’s alright?”

“Sure,” Kyung says, as nonchalant as he can manage. He doesn’t help, opting to let Minhyuk divest him of his clothes, ripping off the condom, tying it, tossing it aside. Kyung’s not hard, still in his refractory period, but he wants it, remembers what it’s like to be fucked by the one and only B-Bomb. His body is still a sight Kyung loves to drink in, his stomach and defined arms, his dick hanging heavy and hard in the nest of dark hair between his legs. Kyung swallows past a lump in his throat. “I haven’t been fucked in a while, so be gentle.”

“Of course,” Minhyuk says. Once he pulls off the rest of Kyung’s clothes, he crawls back in between his legs, pushing them open and up to his chest before he circles a lube-slicked finger around his hole. “Just tell me what you want.”

“Ok.” Kyung lets his head fall back onto the pillow, relaxing his body for the breach of Minhyuk’s fingers.

“Does this feel good?” Minhyuk asks, pushing his fingers in deeper.

“You know me better than to ask,” Kyung says. He stretches his body out, relishing the slight burn and twist of Minhyuk’s fingers as he moves them. It feels good, better than Kyung’s felt in a long time, with or without anyone else. He never could get the angle right when he was finger fucking himself, but he and Minhyuk had so much time to perfect it. To this day, Kyung still likes it best how Minhyuk would give it to him, with his fingers or his tongue or his cock. Fucking Minhyuk was his favorite form of practice. Minhyuk leans over him, kissing up his sternum, lathing his tongue over Kyung’s nipples, licking into the hollow of his throat. Kyung’s dick starts to grow hard again. “But if you just wanted to fuck me already, I’d be okay with that.”

Minhyuk smirks, his cheek dimpling again. “Do you want me to fuck you hard?”

“Mm,” Kyung says, sinking back further into the bed, feeling more relaxed than he has in months, what, with the deadlines looming, and the pressure on him to release more solo songs. Minhyuk always had that effect, though, always knew how to relax him. “Whatever feels good for you, baby.”

Minhyuk rolls on a condom, squirts more lube into his hands, slicks himself up. Kyung feels his heartbeat pick up in anticipation; just thinking about Minhyuk being inside him makes him sweat. Minhyuk gets a hand around him and strokes, no clothes to bar his way this time. Kyung’s dick is fully hard now, leaking, aching, and Minhyuk seems to be taking an age to get himself ready. He always was a tease.

When Minhyuk finally pushes into him, the stretch feels better than anything he’s felt in years, the girth of Minhyuk just right. Kyung never was the patient kind, but Minhyuk always made it worth his time.

“Oh,” Kyung manages as Minhyuk bottoms out. He can feel him hitting all the sensitive nerves that set Kyung’s body on fire. When Minhyuk starts to move, Kyung bites his lip to keep his sounds hushed.

Minhyuk strokes his thumb across Kyung’s bottom lip, and Kyung sucks on it. “I want to hear you. Don’t keep quiet.”

“You don’t want to hear me,” Kyung says, afraid that if he starts he’ll never stop. “If I said any of the shit I felt like saying to you, you’d never talk to me again.”

“You must have really been hurt,” Minhyuk says, and Kyung can’t stand listening to him right now. He squeezes, just to hear Minhyuk’s shocked-out moan, and yeah, Kyung’s still got it.

“Okay, fuck me hard. Do it so I won’t forget you.”

Minhyuk doesn’t respond in words. Instead, he hitches Kyung’s leg across his body and turns him on his side, before leaning back to get more leverage. H starts to thrust in earnest, then, deep-dicking into him. Kyung’s eyes roll back in his head, his body set to vibrate, as Minhyuk hits that spot inside him that makes him moan.

“I want to -- fuck you like this all the time,” Minhyuk says, pounding faster, harder, giving it to Kyung. “I never stopped wanting it.”

Kyung’s not sure whether he should feel honoured, or hurt that Minhyuk only thought about fucking Kyung, when Kyung wanted to do so much more, but at the moment he settles for feeling fucking good. He can’t help moaning, pulls Minhyuk’s hand to his mouth again and sucks on his fingers to keep himself as quiet as possible, which serves to spur Minhyuk on.

“You feel -- good, so good,” Minhyuk says in starts and bursts, “--wasn’t lying, you’re still the best fuck I’ve ever--”

When Minhyuk leans over to kiss him, he doesn’t have the leverage to fuck as hard, but he gets in deeper, fucking Kyung into the mattress, making his vision blur. The kiss is sloppy, more a meeting of tongues than anything, but it’s sweet enough to bring a resurgence of what Kyung used to feel for Minhyuk, when his emotions were so messy that he couldn’t separate the sex from what he was feeling. Kyung’s feelings were so complicated; he could never tell if he liked Minhyuk, or if he was just bored. But then Minhyuk left, to travel, or to find himself, or whatever, and Kyung was left with a Minhyuk-shaped hole in his chest that no one else could fill. This went on for years, the mess of _what if_ s and _could have been_ s that would drive Kyung crazy when he let himself think about it too much. And now here they are, Minhyuk fucking the feelings right back into him.

Minhyuk pulls back again, keeps dicking into him at a relentless pace, fucking Kyung so good it makes Kyung’s toes curl. He’s content to just lie there and bask in the attention Minhyuk’s paying him, in the filth he’s saying, until Minhyuk pulls out.

At first Kyung think it’s an accident, except then Minhyuk pulls Kyung up, and he gets the hint, waiting until Minhyuk falls back onto the bed before straddling his lap. He slides down onto Minhyuk’s dick with a moan that hangs in the air, heavy with the heat from their bodies. It’s easy to get lost in the sensations he’s experiencing, easy to get caught up thinking about how Kyung was on top the last time they had sex, too, how he might have done things differently if he’d known what would come after. Actually tied Minhyuk to the bed, maybe.

Minhyuk grips Kyung’s waist and holds on as Kyung rides him. The action grounds Kyung, bringing him back to the here and now. He places his hands on Minhyuk’s chest for leverage and looks down at him, really looks at his face and the crinkle of consternation between his brow and and his big ears and the jut of his collarbones and the sheen of sweat covering his body. He’s beautiful in the half-light filtering in from the foyer.

Their slow, rhythmic fucking starts to build pressure in Kyung’s belly. Minhyuk bucks up and tips Kyung forward, close enough to kiss him again, properly this time, sweet, lasting kisses that make Kyung’s head spin. Minhyuk bucks into him again, hitting that spot inside him, and Kyung’s coming, his stomach muscles clenching as his orgasm pushes out of him. He squirts across Minhyuk’s stomach as Minhyuk orgasms at the same time.

Minhyuk moans into Kyung’s mouth, still trying to open-mouth kiss him as Kyung collapses onto his chest. For a second he wishes they hadn’t used a condom; he remembers what it’s like to be filled by Minhyuk completely, the feeling of come sliding down his thighs in the aftermath when they were too caught up in each other to bother cleaning up. He wants those years back. He aches for them.

Even though Minhyuk is right here, Kyung aches for him, too.

They spent a few minutes catching their breath before Minhyuk pulls out, gently pushing Kyung to the side so he can deal with the condom and reach for the tissues on the nightstand to clean himself up. Kyung watches him through half-lidded eyes until he lies back down, the both of them curled towards each other like parentheses. Minhyuk strokes a hand down Kyung’s side, lightly glossing his fingers over where Kyung’s most ticklish.

“I’m sorry,” Minhyuk says, and Kyung wishes he wouldn’t.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it.” _Unless you plan on sticking around this time_.

“Kyung, I can’t stay. You know that.” He reaches up to touch Kyung’s cheek ever so softly, and again Kyung can’t help leaning into the touch. Even still, it does little to assuage Kyung’s mounting frustration. He hasn’t let his feelings ruin this yet and he refuses to let Minhyuk ruin it too.

Maybe it’s better that way. Kyung was fine without Minhyuk. He made do, resolutely not addressing his feelings and just writing about them instead. His last album, Letters, was a collection of things he never said, would never say, to Minhyuk.

Kyung’s known he’s been in love with him for years. It was so painfully obvious in hindsight it made him feel stupid to think he could ever sleep with Minhyuk for that long and not fall in love with him, someone whose dimples lit up the room and who had an ass Kyung used as a pillow on multiple occasions.

They never really kept it a secret from the others, this unnamed thing between them, but they didn’t seem to have a problem with it. The band was already physical with each other so much, it didn’t matter to them that Kyung and Minhyuk took it to a new level. Saying “I love you” was second nature, and it took a long time for Kyung to realise that it was different with Minhyuk that what he was really saying to him was “I’m in love with you”. In a way, they were all in love with each other, it was just more visceral for Kyung where Minhyuk was concerned.

“Then you should just leave.”

Minhyuk moves his hand up until he’s stroking Kyung’s ear, brushing his hair back from his face. “I want to hear what you’ve been working on. I listened to your last album when I was in Flam. I’d sit on the edge of the Sognefjord and play it for hours, watching tourists float by as the sun passed in the sky overhead. It made me think of home.”

“If you missed it that much, why didn’t you come back?” He hates himself for asking, but the question has been burning a hole in the back of his mind for three years. “I saw your posts on Instagram. You didn’t forget about us.”

“How could I forget? Block B was everything to me. I didn’t know who I was when we broke up.”

“Did you find out?”

“I have a better idea now. Does anyone in their twenties really know?”

Kyung rolls onto his back and stretches. Despite feeling pleasantly fucked, he has a knot in his stomach that he realises has been there since Minhyuk called him twelve hours ago. The afterglow has disappeared and in its place is the reality of what they’ve done, opening up old wounds that never healed properly, at least for Kyung. He always was the one pouring himself into everything he did, and loving Minhyuk was no different.

Minhyuk seems fine. But then, he always did. Not that Kyung would know either way. Minhyuk's tendency was keep things to himself used to drive Kyung crazy. 

“Can I hear?”

“Sure,” Kyung says. He sits up only to have Minhyuk pull him back down and kiss him, and, damnit, Kyung’s too weak for this. He kisses back and Minhyuk turns it into something hungry, desperate, kissing like the last hour didn’t happen, or like he wants it to happen again.

Kyung finally pulls away with an, “Okay, stay here,” and gets up, feeling Minhyuk’s eyes on him as he pulls on his underwear. The short walk to the studio to grab his laptop clears his head, but as soon as he’s within proximity of Minhyuk, sees him casually sprawled naked across Kyung’s bed, Kyung starts to lose his mind again. When he climbs back into bed, Minhyuk lays his head in Kyung’s lap, and Kyung starts the song.

It’s a slow one, one that he considered giving to Taeil but in the end chose for one of KQ’s second generation groups. His voice has gotten stronger over the years but he still excels better at rap and composing than singing. Minhyuk listens, humming along to the chorus the third time it plays, his breath warm on Kyung’s thigh. When the song stops there’s silence between them and Kyung waits.

“Kyung,” Minhyuk says, slowly, “that’s amazing. That’s honestly...incredible. I knew you could write a song but that’s…”

“Shh,” Kyung says, smiling despite himself. “You’re just content, that’s why you’re giving me compliments.”

“Well if you want to see if you can fuck more compliments out of me,” Minhyuk says, twisting so he catches Kyung’s eye. “Can I listen to another one?”

Kyung searches for the song and hits play. The familiar French filters through the speakers, and then comes Minhyuk’s voice, his breathy, “Feel me go into you bit by bit, babe”.

Minhyuk groans. “Not this. One of your songs.”

“Nope.” Kyung puts his laptop aside. “You’ll have to stream them on Naver like everybody else.” He lies down again, far enough away for his guardedness to kick in, but Minhyuk pulls him closer anyway. He relents, laying on Minhyuk’s chest and listening to his heartbeat like this means more than it does. “You didn’t have to leave, you know. You could have stayed, gone solo. You have the talent.”

“I know,” Minhyuk says. “But I just couldn’t. There was really nothing I wanted to stay for.”

So, that’s it then. The truth: Minhyuk didn’t think even Kyung was worth staying for.

“You, everyone,” Minhyuk continues, “you all had your lives planned out. Jihoon knew he was going before we even broke up, he just didn’t want to accept it until it happened. Taeil and Jiho were always going to go solo. And you, you have the talent to do whatever you set your mind to. How could I interfere with that?”

Kyung wants to shout at him. He wants to say that it wasn’t interfering, that they could have started their lives together. Block B ending didn’t have to be all bad; it could have been the start of something new. But he doesn’t say it. Now, it feels like too little, too late.

“You’re not saying anything, which worries me,” Minhyuk says.

“You could still go solo now. It’s not too late for that. Or wait until Jiho’s done with his next album, he’ll probably want to bring us all back together for a reunion tour.”

Minhyuk’s smiling, Kyung can hear it in his voice when he says, “Shouldn’t we wait another couple of years for that?” Kyung has never felt less like smiling.

“He wanted to remix one of my songs from my last album.”

“Oh? And you said no?”

“Remixes are never as good as the originals.”

They lapse into comfortable silence, just listening to each other’s breathing.

“Tell me about your life now,” Minhyuk says.

“I like my life now,” Kyung says, choosing his words carefully. “Producing is challenging enough, and it pays the bills.”

“But you miss it, the stage.”

“I miss Block B,” Kyung says in a rare moment of honesty. Suddenly it’s too much for him, being here in the oppressive post-fucking atmosphere, resting on Minhyuk’s chest. He wants to leave but he can’t bring himself to move. This is what he wanted, isn’t it? To have Minhyuk back? Kyung hasn’t felt right without him. Now he’s here, Kyung still doesn’t feel right.

“I’m tired,” Kyung says, and doesn’t even bother to fake a yawn. A thousand words burn a hole in his tongue, like _just lock the door behind you when you leave_ , and other things he’s not cruel enough to say. He rolls off of Minhyuk and gets under the covers, keeping to one side of the bed. It doesn’t matter; Minhyuk curls around him again, arm around his waist, his chest pressed against Kyung’s back as their knees slot together. Kyung pretends that it’s cold enough that he needs the warmth, even though he’ll sweat through the sheets.

Minhyuk kisses the back of his neck, nipping at the top of Kyung’s spine, a pressure point that always gets him going. He can’t help melting back into Minhyuk, letting out a sigh as he pulls Kyung into him with a hand on his belly. The way he kisses across Kyung’s shoulder blades is sweet and suggestive at the same time, and Kyung knows he doesn’t want to start anything, he’s just turning Kyung on for the sake of it.

Eventually Kyung rolls around, kissing Minhyuk mostly on instinct, their bodies flush together. It’s not exactly heated, more kissing just to be kissing, but Kyung never could compartmentalise his emotions around Minhyuk, and it’s even harder now with the vain hope that he’ll have this for real threatening to engulf him. He feels small in Minhyuk’s hands, and vulnerable. One wrong move and he’ll break apart.

Minhyuk brings his hand up to Kyung’s face, cradling his cheek, pushing his hair back, smoothing his thumb across Kyung’s jawline. It’s so unnecessarily intimate.

When Kyung pulls back he’s half-hard again, and he can feel that Minhyuk is too, but his muscles are starting to ache in a blissful, deeply satisfied way. Minhyuk looks satisfied, too, eyes half closed and expression smooth. When Minhyuk leaves again, at least Kyung will have this memory of him.

 

//

 

When he wakes up in the morning, Minhyuk’s gone. Surprisingly, it’s okay, it doesn’t hurt any more than it did last time. By now Kyung’s used to Minhyuk not being there. He can’t say he didn’t see it coming.

He climbs out of the otherwise empty bed, feeling the soreness of last night, and looks around. There’s nothing to indicate that Minhyuk was here last night except the condoms on the desk, and he feels lighter for it. He picks up his laptop and heads into his studio, a new song already forming in his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> it's ok, bbomb just went to get eggs to make kyung an omelette
> 
> come find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/prkkyng)


End file.
